


How Am I Supposed to Accept This?

by breakneck



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Study, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Plot, Plotty, Werewolf Biology, au: classic werewolf! Scott
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-23
Updated: 2014-03-13
Packaged: 2018-01-13 11:17:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1224271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/breakneck/pseuds/breakneck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone wants to feel safe in the dark.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. This broken jaw of our lost Kingdom

**Author's Note:**

> If you happen to have read my previous work, this is going to be in the same super-short chapter style. If you haven't, hey, maybe this will be refreshing for your tired eyes! Thanks for clicking the link, friend. Feedback is always appreciated and I always feel more inclined to write more if I know people might actually read it! :)
> 
> This fic is set right around episode one of season three. Scott has to deal with being an alpha, which includes being able to go full-on werewolf a la first-season Peter. Scott is nervous about Stiles seeing him that way, and how it will affect their friendship.

Scott exhales. He shifts his weight from one leg to another. He can hear Stiles breathing behind him….and the beating of his heart. His breathe catches in his throat.

“Look, I- I don’t want you to see me like this.” Scott says, his bated breath coming out all at once.

He can feel the tension in the air, sense Stiles’ pulse shoot up. It makes him feel queasy, and he works his lips a bit trying to fight down the nausea and the dread washing over him.

“C’mon dude. You’ve been cagey about it ever since you ranked-up, but I’m not gonna judge you. Honestly, I think it’s awesome. Besides, you need my help. You may be a “true alpha” or whatever, but the moons going to rise in a few and I’ve seen how you’ve been freaking out all day.” Stiles looks Scott right in the eyes when he speaks.

Scott turns his eyes away. Stiles puts his hand on Scott’s shoulder but Scott brushes his fingers off gently. Stiles is undeterred.

“Look. Scott. It’s going to be fine. We’ll go out into the words, just you and me, find a nice spot, I’ll take a lawn chair and a magazine or something-but not one of _those_ magazines, that’d be awkward.” he pauses to check Scott’s face to see if the joke has registered, but his jaw is still set. For Scott the exercise is awful, the smile on Stiles’ face is taut, in his opinion. He begins thinking how he could just push past Stiles and be done with it. Ride off on his bike and be far from town by nightfall... But Stiles won’t shut up.

“Anyway, I’ll set us down in the forest, I’ll put down a circle of ash and that’ll be that; Easy as pie from a little werewolf Easy-Bake. Oh yeah, that’s the best part of the plan! If it looks like you’ve got a handle on things, I’ll break the circle and we can eat cheeseburgers. Or,  if turns out full-on classic werewolf Scott is big enough I’ve always wanted to be that kid at the end of Never-Ending Story. You HAVE seen never ending story, right?” Scott nods.

 Stiles continues as if Scott had quipped back at him, “I am so up for that.  What do you say, buddy? I haven’t seen Derek around, and I don’t care to ask the Argents for help. It’ll be just like old times.” Stiles says and this time he puts both hands on Scott’s shoulders.

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” Says Scott and he can’t keep the bitterness out of his voice.


	2. Worry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ha ha ha, I don't know if you can really call these chapters, but I'm doing it anyway. :)

Scott’s palms are bleeding. Or rather, they were bleeding. Right now there is fresh blood in his life lines and his love lines but the wounds were small and Scott’s adrenaline is high. They are healed. He paces his room and stares at his claws. His mother is at the hospital, the house is empty.

“What are you doing, Scott?” He asks himself. The acrid smell of blood does something to his stomach.  He wonders if he likes the smell. His stomach lurches. He flexes his hands again, forces his claws back into fingernails; runs his hands through his hair.

“The blood,” he thinks, “Damn.”

                Scott walks across his room, tripping over a discarded pair of jeans on his way to the bathroom and cursing under his breath. He turns on the faucet and washes his hands, watches the blood run down the sink with a strange sense of distance-as if he were watching someone else wash their hands. He splashes cold water in his face and hair and as he looks up he sees it. His eyes flash in the reflective way only an animal’s can.

                Scott stares at his reflection for several seconds, but the buzzing of his phone interrupts his reverie.

                “Dammit, Stiles!” he swears under his breath as he stumbles back to the bed where he left it.

                “Hell-” Scott gets out before Stiles slams his fist down on the Jeep’s horn. Scott winces.

                “I’m here!” Stiles chirps into the receiver.

                “Stiles…” Scott warns.  
                “It’s happening. I have food. Get your butt down here.” Stiles commands before hanging up.

                Scott growls in frustration. Then, realizing what just occurs squeezes his hands into fists again and stomps downstairs and into the waiting Jeep. As they drive off into the gathering dusk Scott tries not to push his points into his palms again while he wonders if he could, in fact, smell fear and what it would smell like.


	3. His Claws are a bore, punk kid trying to be hardcore

Standing in his room, Stiles shakes his head. There is a duffel bag on his bed filled with a variety of things he thinks he might need for a fun-filled evening of keeping his best friend from murdering people inside it, though he doubts he will need any of it.

                “He acts like I’ve never seen a werewolf before….” He mumbles. Then, thinking it over he repeats it to himself in a mocking tone and raps:

                “He acts like I’ve never seen a werewolf before,

His claws are a bore, punk kid trying to be hardcore.” Stiles makes a mental note to make up the rest of the verse later, but with his luck Scott won’t know enough about Eminem to get it and it will be completely wasted on him.

“He’ll just stand there with that goofy look on his face that makes him look like a big goofy fool and I’ll….” He trails off.  Stiles’ eyes sting. He jerks his hand out and shuffles the contents of his bag, checking to see if he has everything and finds it satisfactory.  He pulls on a hoodie, grabs his duffel bag, and heads out the house and towards his car.

Stiles turns on the car and leaves his house pondering where to go and what kind of food would cheer probably-ravenous Scott up the most. He decides chili burgers from the local sketchy drive-through burger-place are probably best.  They literally ooze deliciousness! So he picks up the food and drives over to pick up Scott. His stomach is totally eating itself on the way over. He calls Scott and wonders if his ringtone is still that stupid break-up song or if he’s finally changed it. God, just the thought of it is pissing him off. Stiles can almost hear the generic guitar riffs in his mind, so he lays on the horn just as Scott picks up and starts to speak.

Stiles can hear Scott suck his teeth over the receiver.

                “I’m here!” Stiles says squeezing the steering wheel.

                “Stiles…” Scott whines.

“It’s happening. I have food. Get your butt down here.” Stiles jams I before he can have a chance to protest and hangs up. Stiles stares up at Scott’s window and wonders which issue will be more pressing tonight, the moon or whatever is eating Scott.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, if you are an actual teen Teen Wolf fan you might need this: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YfxOUcSBKlE in order to understand the joke. I'm not sure how obscure this reference is, as at the time I was in elementary/middle school when this would have been relevant and I was pretty sheltered. This was a major burn at the time. 
> 
> Please imagine that Stiles does his best imitation of Christina Aguilera and I'd say that he probably does come up with at least one verse before he gets bored. I will probably write it for you because now I've entertained myself with the idea.
> 
> I've always wanted to try writing a scene from two differing perspectives.It's a good exercise on how characters think. Even though the narrator is semi-omniscient I wanted to keep the level of what the narrator knows pretty close to what you can figure out by observing people. I don't know, bla bla writing bla bla.


	4. The Pavement Game

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I had totally forgotten what a pleasure the instant-gratification of fanfiction was. Most of the things I write never see the light of day. I write a lot of poetry and original works that barely anyone has ever seen. Just to know that anyone at all would read my super-specific Teen Wolf fic makes me really happy. I have probably the most-undesirable format possible and yet people have kept clicking on this. Thank you so much for reading my little story. If you feel so inclined, I would love to know what you thought of it. :) I'm almost at the end of the story unless it goes further than I thought.
> 
> P.S. if you notice any errors, let me know. I haven't really proof-read this as much as past work, as part of the exercise is to write quickly, so if you see something wonky, let me know.

Scott reluctantly trudges down the stairs with a backpack, with clothes and a toothbrush and whatnot. Just because his mom knew he was a werewolf didn’t necessarily mean that he’d told her _everything_ and it certainly didn’t mean that she needed to worry about him, so he kept up a front of normalcy even though she wasn’t there. She would notice his backpack gone and she’d know he’d gone to Stiles’ and that’s all she needed to know. He trudges down the stairs and texts her as he goes so she’ll know he’s safe.

“But is everybody else safe?” Scott says to the empty house.

Stiles is slumped over the steering wheel with his arms pressed against the windshield when Scott hops in. Stiles immediately yanks himself up.

“Oh my fucking GOD Scott,” he mock-shouts, “why didn’t you just jump out your window? I thought I was gonna die down here before you decided to make your exit in a quiet and orderly manner. If I’m going to spend the night wolf-watching I want to have a chance to get set up first.”

Scott snaps his seatbelt in place with a loud click. Stiles peers at him, unsure what to make of this, trying to put the pieces together.

“Scott, I’m kidding, man. It’s no big deal. Don’t worry about it.  I don’t really care. A couple of seconds isn’t going to make a big difference.” Stiles says as he puts the jeep in drive with exaggerated force. He pulls out of Scott’s driveway and down the road.

Scott is staring out the window watching the scenery blend together like a paint stroke. He is imagining the four-count rhythm of running alongside the car.  He traces his path with his eyes and every time there is a break in the paint at the edge of the road for a driveway that he jumps over it smoothly by tracking the space he would occupy with eye movement. After a while he is jumping over the mailboxes and fence posts as well. It’s a game he’s played since he was a kid and it makes him feel calm to focus on this exercise. There is nothing but the yellow paint and the sound of the road and the obstacles he jumps over lightly.

“I honestly doubt anything’s going to happen.” Stiles adds after a time.

“What makes you say that?” Scott says but his tone shifts up at the end just a little bit.

“Well, an alpha’s in charge, right? So wouldn’t that mean you have _more_ control?” Stiles says.

“Yeah, but Stiles, this whole nematon-true-alpha thing screwed us up. It screwed me up.” Scott says and Stiles flicks his eyes over to look at him as he talks. Scott’s eyes are burning red in the seat beside him, reflecting some shmuck’s headlights like an animal. Stiles shivers. He can’t help it. It’s like he turned his head expecting to see Scott but he’s in a fairytale and instead the devil was sitting next to him and for a half-second he believes it.

Scott sees it. Of course he does. His vision is awesome at night. He doesn’t say anything and turns back to the window. He tries to focus on his game but he just realized that in this game he has always run on all-fours, hence the rhythm. His insides are roiling.

“It’s going to be fine, Scott. I mean, I brought a length of chain too; just in case. It’ll be like old times.” He smiles towards Scott, but Scott doesn’t see, he has his forehead pressed to the cool window and his eyes closed.

They ride on in silence up into the park, off the gravel road, and onto a path taken by rangers. Finally they park and it is time to begin their journey on foot. When Stiles opens the door to get out with his bag it becomes apparent to him that Scott will need help tonight. Scott looks up at Stiles, eyes glassy from being closed for most of the trip, but still distinctly red. Already his forehead is more slanted, his hair creeping down the sides of his face.

“Alright, whether you like it or not, we’re having this adventure and soon, Scott.” Stiles says as Scott pulls his backpack out and trudges up to Stiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, but that's a game I played as a kid in the car. Another variation is to imagine that you are running along the dotted line in the middle of the car. I don't know where I came up with this or why. I saw a post going around on Tumblr about how a lot of kids imagined something else running alongside the car, but I have always imagined myself...weird. I've been thinking about that and what it could mean.


	5. Things We Are Afraid Of

Scott scraped the forest floor clear so that they could know for sure that the mountain-ash circle was complete. His clawed hands are covered in the rich soil. He stands in the center staring, wondering how long they would be _his_ hands. 

 

"Step off for a second there, buddy. Let me get this blanket laid out." Said Stiles, clearly more prepared than Scott had thought. He has an old quilt Scott vaguely recognized folded over one arm. Scott stumbles out of the way as Stiles unfurls it. 

 

The scent that comes with this action nearly overwhelms Scott. There is the distinctly human scent of must and the smell of Stiles' detergent. He is transported to pillow forts and drive-in movies, laughing and safe in the dark. It hurts to see the faded white cloth press into the moist earth.

 

"There we are, Scott. Nice and cozy. I brought some chairs too if you'd like one. 

 

"Stiles…" Scott ventures, his voice low and strange already, "Why this blanket?"

“It’s the one we always bring. Dad won’t miss it if that’s what you’re worried about.” Stiles answers.

“But I’ll probably stain it; and you’ve had it so long.”  Scott sputters.

Stiles looks at him then, really looks. Scott is presenting what would be “full wolf” for him normally. His posture is bent forward though he is clearly standing up straight. His hands are balled into fists at his sides, knuckles showing white.

“Look, if you’re worried that you’re going to ruin something I’ve had since my mom, don’t. All the memories I have of this thing are with you. Anytime we needed to do some dumb kid thing we brought this along. Look at it, Scott. You can probably see the stains even in the moonlight. Hell, I can see a Kool-Aid stain from where I’m standing even with my regular-human eyes.” Stiles pauses to give Scott a chance to talk.

“Good.” Scott manages, wincing as his organs shift and grow to fit into an expanding ribcage. When Scott doesn’t elaborate, Stiles plunges ahead.

“What is this really about?” Stiles steps into the circle as he talks and forces Scott to make eye contact. Even though Scott is now clearing hunched Stiles is staring up into his shining eyes. Scott grits his teeth, clearly in pain.

“Why are you fighting it? It’ll be fine.” Stiles puts his hands on Scotts shoulders and squeezes. Scott turns his eyes out into the forest, unable to look at his friend.

“I’m scared.” Scott whispers. Stiles can actually hear Scott’s clothing growing taut.

“I don’t want you to see me like this. I don’t want you to see how ugly I am! I don’t want to be this thing, this monster!” Scott says. Tears run down his incongruous face that he doesn't try to wipe away.

“I just want to be Scott McCall.” Scott says, choking back a sob.

“Ugly?! You’re worried about being ugly, Scott? Didn’t we already establish that you’re the hottest girl? Besides, even if you were the ugliest girl with the bushiest unibrow you’d still be the hottest girl to me.” Stiles says shaking Scott’s shoulders.

“I can’t lose you, Stiles. Besides my mom you’re the only person who’s been around since…” he pauses trying to keep from crying harder.

“Since your dad skipped out? Fuck your dad, Scott! What are you thinking? That I’m going to be so repulsed by what you are that I’m going to leave?! Is that what you think?” Stiles shouts, his hands quivering he’s gripping Scott so tightly.

“Yes! Okay? Yes! I don’t want you to see the ugly parts of me, I won’t be able to keep them in check!”

“Scott… Scott,” Stiles’s voice cracks as he strokes Scott’s arm, “I’m here, aren’t I? In case you hadn’t noticed, you’re all I’ve got too. You’ve forgiven my ugliness and I don’t even care about yours and you probably don’t care about mine either. You’re my brother, Scott. I don’t care what you turn into, that’s all that matters to me.”

Stiles grabs Scott tight, his hand on the back of Scott’s head. He can feel Scott sobbing and he allows himself to cry too as Scott wraps his arms around Stiles. They stand there for a moment that stretches out as Stiles’ brain tries to catalogue it.

Then, just as suddenly, Scott gently disengages Stiles and steps away with that same lop-sided smile on his face. He looks up at the moon and lets go.

Stiles breath catches in his throat as he sinks to his knees. Where Peter’s wolf was hideous: half-human, half-wolf in the worst way possible with thin, course fur and brutal features, Scott’s wolf is almost sleek. He’s not a full wolf to be certain, but the balance between forms is graceful. Scott’s snout is long and Stiles swears just a little bit asymmetrical, his fur is full, and his eyes shine with Scott’s sweet spirit.

Stiles laughs. He stands and brushes the mountain ash off his backside from the now-ruined circle. Scott sidles over to him and sniffs at him experimentally. Stiles pats him on his side.

“Seems like now would be a good time to ask about that ride, Falcor. You up for it, big guy?” Stiles says. In answer, Scott crouches down and lets Stiles up onto his back. As Scott runs off into the night Stiles raises his fist into the air and with perfect happiness yells.

“Yeaaaaahhhhhh!”

Scott barks out a laugh, finally remembering a movie watched under a dusty old blanket when they were kids.

                                                                                                        The End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea why I felt the need to bring in Never-Ending Story. I hadn't even seen it until I was already an adult. It just strikes me as such a quintessential children's film, very pure and brave. 
> 
> This whole fanfiction was written entirely so that Scott could express this idea of being scared of being rejected by Stiles for being a monster. When I saw that scene where Scott was trying so hard to keep himself under control as an alpha it made me think of this. We all long for acceptance, but what if the worst thing about you could be put on physical display and there was nothing you could do about it?
> 
> I really struggled with the dialogue here. I wanted to express this theme very clearly, but I also wanted to write dialogue that would be believable coming out of a couple of teenage boy's mouths. I tried to find a balance. I don't want to show them as that stereotype we've all been fed that boy's don't cry, and it's not okay to be emotional as a boy, but I also wanted a believable level of unwillingness to just state how you feel. 
> 
> I would really love to hear what you thought of it. Seeing the view count rise is really encouraging, but there's no way to tell if you read the whole story or how you felt about it. 
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me, and keep an eye for the next time I get a wild plot bunny nibbling at my brain.
> 
> -Breakneck


End file.
